


Rubber Band Blues

by wastelandscuttlebutt (heavenasunder)



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 00:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenasunder/pseuds/wastelandscuttlebutt
Summary: Quick character study, and hopeful introduction into a series.





	Rubber Band Blues

Running errands for Moira’s survival guide had so far only proven to Peter that radiation poisoning was a bitch and Super Duper Marts housed more raiders than it did food. He couldn’t complain about the last one too hard. He’d gotten a sick new set of armor and a rifle, in decent condition, out of it, as well as enough liquor to feed his bender for the week. More importantly he’d found two whole boxes of pristine rubber bands, and nothing said boredom in his Megaton home like making the largest rubber band ball he could. “Nervous energy,” is what his father would mutter under his breath when Peter would take to tasks like this. Peter wasn’t sure he was nervous. He didn’t _feel_ nervous. Mostly he did these things because it was a simple start-to-finish task. Wrap one band around the other until, _ta-da!_ a complete bouncy ball that he could throw against the floor, ricochet off the wall and catch to throw again. Rinse, repeat.

Dogmeat eyed the toy from across the room, tail wagging its interest. Maybe he’d take him out tomorrow and play fetch. Too late now, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving nothing illuminating the town but the sparse lights of the residing townspeople, and the glow of Moriarty’s saloon.

Peter threw the ball against the wall, hard enough to make Dodo flinch.

“Hey man, like, I get it, but can you...?” Dodo said, gesturing to whatever he was tinkering with, splayed out on the corner desk. Peter just shrugged and went back to bouncing.

He’d told Dodo that he’d give Moriarty those 100 caps when he was dead, but that wasn’t entirely true. The only inheritance Moriarty was getting upon his death was a dilapidated latrine Peter had found in the ruins of a house outside of Megaton. Wrote it in his will and everything. Moriarty had to retrieve it himself, though. His will specified.

He was thorough that way.

Mid-throw, and Dogmeat had had enough watching. He lunged, snapping up the rubber band ball as Peter dove to catch it before he could, only succeeding in falling flat on his face as Dogmeat pranced away with his kill.

“Ha! For someone so perceptive, I can’t believe you didn’t see that coming,” Dodo laughed, apparently done enough with his tinkering that he was free to talk shit. Peter sat up and straightened his back against the wall he’d been leaning on.

“Just honing Dogmeat’s hunting skills,” he deadpan muttered, eyeing the mutt as his teeth dug into the precious rubber.

“Well, if we come into contact with vicious rubber trees, I’m sure we’ll be safe,” Dodo said.

“Man, what the hell are you even talking about?”

“Rubber? It comes from trees.”

“No, it came from a super market.”

“No, I mean originally,” Dodo huffed. Peter furrowed his brow, looking at the other boy through his nose.

“Is this a dodo thing?” he asked. Dodo sighed.

“Yes, Peter,” he said. "It's a dodo thing." Peter nodded. Dodo’s dad was into a lot of pre-war history. Had lots of old, mostly intact books and hand-written interviews with pre-war ghouls about things even before nuclear bombs had even been thought of. Mundane stuff, mostly. How old things were made, animals from back then, and even older.

Dodo’s name was actually Tracey. Tracey Nguyen. Told Peter when they met that his brother had read one of their dad’s old books and taken to calling him Dodo, after some pre-war bird and it’d stuck.

”Said it was ‘cause I was too dumb to live,” Dodo had said. Peter didn’t get it, both because he didn’t know what that had to do with a bird, and also Dodo wasn’t dumb in the least. Still, it was what Dodo had introduced himself as, so he’d gone with it. He forgot sometimes that Dodo was Tracey and not Dodo. He also didn’t know how you got rubber bands from a tree. Was the whole tree rubber? He imagined cutting one down and popping out each ring into a band. The thought made him laugh, and Dodo didn’t look up from his task to question

That would be silly, Peter thought. The bands wouldn’t be uniform that way.

Dogmeat had mostly chewed through the ball, and Peter only moved from his spot to make sure he didn’t swallow the rubber. He didn’t want a repeat of the other day when the dumb animal had eaten his sock in its entirety and had to have assistance passing it.

He wished, not for the first time since coming here. that this life could be enough for him. Dodo doing whatever it was that Dodo did, Dogmeat slobbering on anything he could fit his mouth around, and Wadsworth tutting and whirring around the cramped space. Other wastelanders made do with less.

But Dad was gone. He was gone and he didn’t care about what happened to his son. Didn’t know about the blood on his hands. In his darker moments, Peter got a sick thrill out of the idea of what it’d be like to see his father’s face when he told him that. Killed two security guards on my way out, and that was just the first 24 hours, daddy. In truth, he wasn’t proud of that, and in reality, he wanted nothing more than to dissolve crying into his dad’s arms and for once since he left the vault, feel safe. But his anger-fueled day-dream-dads didn’t need to know that. He had a continuous list in his mind that ran a length of strike-outs for what he needed to do:

Go to bed.

Wake up.

Try to find a way into Moriarty’s terminal.

Find Dad

~~Fuck up Dad’s shit. ~~~~~~

~~~~~~Help Dad? ~~~~~~~~ ~~

~~~~~~~~~~Punch Dad. ~~~~~~~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Hug Dad and beg for forgiveness. ~~~~~~~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Punch Dad and make him beg for his forgiveness. ~~~~~~~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Forgive Dad and leave him to rot on his own. ~~~~~~~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Forget but don’t forgive. Long range weapons are good for quiet revenge. ~~~~~~~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~You’re being dramatic Peter. ~~~~~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Fuck it all, Peter thought. Step one first.

He climbed the stairs.

He went to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Dodo is my own Fallout OC, and idk where he even came from or how he stuck around, but really neither does Peter sooo
> 
> My Fallout blog is wishyouwereanuclearwinter on tumblr


End file.
